Thunder and Lightning
by Netrixie
Summary: Hermione was always terrifed of thunder storms. But this one was different, it was... odd. Snarry, HPSS, SLASH. Implied RWDM


**Disclaimer: **I like thunderstorms… always have. So this is my tribute to them and Snarry. Oh, and by the way, J.K. Rowling would _never _use the word 'Snarry', so I think it's safe to say I'm not her.

**Authours Note: **-cringes- sorry! I had to write this to compensate for the fact that the next chapters for _The Ties That Bind _and _Habits and Hobbies_ were horribly late…. I hope you like this itty bitty one shot….

**Title: **Thunder and Lightning

* * *

Hermione paused in her reading as the thunder roared above her. She sighed, pushing her hair from her face as she leaned back in her chair, and turned her eyes to the storm raging outside her window.

Hogwarts, she knew, was a perfectly safe place to be during a storm; the wards would not allow otherwise; but still there was something about a sudden storm that unnerved her. Maybe it was the almost magical darkening of the skies, maybe it was the foreboding sense of danger that was inherent in such a violent act of nature, or maybe it was something else.

But as Hermione stared out the window at the flickering lightning and the driving rain, she could acknowledge that she was scared of what this might signify. Her mind filled with images of what Voldemort could be doing right now to warrant such ominous weather, and if it could possibly be related to Harry.

Hermione sighed again, and pushed the errant strand of hair from her eyes once more. Harry. He always had been a problem for her, a puzzle to solve or a friend to comfort. He was her greatest challenge, a cipher that no one could crack. The brunette sighed as she curled her legs under her, eyes absently following trails of lightning as she thought.

It might be a tad unfair of her to think of Harry in that light, she knew, but no other analogy made sense. The boy was the single most complicated creature she had ever met, surpassing Professor Snape in that regard, even the Headmaster.

He was willful, stubborn, and rude, and had no regard for authority or influence. He was a sluggard when it came to school work, and disrespectful to the extreme when he wasn't getting his way. Harry would time and again find himself being sent to the Headmaster for his anarchist behaviour, but even that had not calmed him down.

But then, Hermione knew _well _from experience, one shy smile from those green eyes, or a mischievous grin to curve his lips and you'd forgive him anything. He was a loyal friend, a cheerful playmate, and a wonderful Quidditch Captain.

In short, he was a contradiction in terms.

There was no one Hermione wanted more as a friend, and no one more useful to have on your side of a fight. And that was the whole problem, Hermione knew. The question that floated in the mind of everyone who knew him was not 'will Harry be able to save us?' or 'can he _actually_ beat the Dark Lord?' but 'does he even care?'

It was wrong to think of such a thing, with his violent and often murderous relationship with the Dark Lord, but no one could help it. When he was trying to be good and polite and generally behave in a manner Society found socially acceptable, no one could find fault in him.

But it was the other 80 percent of the time that had his friends and allies worried. The other 80 percent when he was breaking- smashing- curfew or sneaking into Hogsmeade in the middle of the night or fighting with Malfoy or wandering through the Forest. The other times when he was acting foolishly, or even stupidly, childish and immature. That was what worried the rest of the world.

Hermione's shoulders slumped as she rested her head against the window pane of her private bedroom. Head Girl had it's advantages, she often told herself, and let a small smile slip onto her face at the thought, no one could complain about a light being on at all hours of the night. But then she lifted her head from the window and sat straight again, returning her attention to the problem that was Harry Potter.

But, she realized, there was no problem. He was Harry, and he would act anyway he wanted and she would scold and chide him but in the end he was her best friend and she would stand by him no matter what he did. Because that's what friends do.

With that solved, Hermione looked back at the storm, wondering know how it had sprung up so fast. Literally one moment there had been a clear blue sky, and the next the clouds were gathering on the horizon and the students had been informed that their Hogsmeade weekend was cancelled.

But the storm drew Hermione in, and as she watched it she let go of all her worries and concerns and just _was. _For once she didn't think about anything, didn't let her fear of the storm distract her, she just watched.

The black clouds were beautiful, in their own scary, slightly demonic way, and there was a roar as a clap of thunder shook the Tower. Lightning sprayed across the sky in hundreds of blinding arcs, lighting the school grounds for one brief moment before fading and retreating to the protection of the clouds.

The rain pounded the window, a steady beat on the glass and stone the Tower was made of, not varying or changing in the hours the storm had already raged. She watched as lightning danced through the heavens, creating bizarre patterns on the backs of her eyelids, and she shivered as the thunder sang in her very bones. More lightning raced through the sky, skipping from cloud to cloud as it went, lighting the atmosphere with flashes like Muggle cameras.

_It is odd, _Hermione thought vaguely, _there seems to be a pattern to this. A… _pulse_, almost… _The thought faded as a particularly bright streak of lightning flashed across the sky, blinding Hermione fully before she could look away. It faded slowly, and it seemed as though the storm was calming, resting after such an explosion of force before starting all over again.

Hermione slapped her forehead as she noticed the time, and returned to her book, never noticing that the storm had started again, it's fury magnified from before.

* * *

The dark room was silent for a moment, the only sound the harsh breathing of two bodies. Black silken sheets were mussed on the bed, a silent testament to the activities of those in the room, and the clothing of two people laced the austerely furnished bedroom. A pale hand rose from the bed and languidly searched until it found it's prize. A handful of thick, unruly black hair was grabbed and the owner dragged up the bed, unresisting.

They were oblivious to the storm raging above the Castle, hidden as they were in the deep dungeons of Hogwarts, and self-satisfied emerald eyes blinked lazily at the man beneath him.

Harry surveyed the alabaster skin stretched before him like a hungry man eyeing a King's feast, and a predatory smile curved his lips. Severus groaned as he saw that light come on in the teens eyes, and dropped his head back onto the pillow as Harry slid the rest of the way up his body and licked the pale column of Severus' throat.

"Harry," he protested weakly, hand still in the boys hair but not actively working to stop him, "_again?" _His agonized voice only made Harry chuckle, seeing as how the younger man was in a prime position to feel that Severus didn't really mean his complaints.

"Yes, Severus," Harry whispered, his voice slow and husky and deep, sending a shiver racing through the black-eyed man's body, "again and again and again," a long lick to a sensitive ear, a smile at the tremble, "until we run out of time," a slow kiss to the underside of a flawless jaw, another smile, "because we never have time," a chaste kiss to the corner of the intoxicating lips of Severus Snape, and a sly little flick of Harry's tongue, "and I know you want this," he paused his lips over the thin one's beneath him, already swollen and bruised from earlier, and smiled, "as much as I do." He set his tongue to mapping out the familiar burning cavern of the mouth before him, and lost himself in the sensations.

Severus could only sigh helplessly as his control was taken from him by skilled and eager hands, and his body manipulated so cleverly and capably that he didn't mind.

Not that he would have, even if he was in a position to think about it.

Neither noticed the storm begin to rage again, and neither would have cared. And high in her Tower Hermione finally collapsed into her bed and fell asleep, lulled into her dreams by the music of the storm, an oddly loving and comforting tone that was completely at odds with what one should expect from such a maelstrom.

* * *

Monday morning dawned bright and clear, a beautiful day after such a stormy weekend. Hermione smiled as she saw Harry at breakfast- not having seen him all weekend, but she'd known him long enough to never even _dream_ of asking him where he'd been because she would inevitably dislike the answer- and walked over to the black haired boy.

Harry made room for her and smiled as she sat next to him.

"How are you, 'Mione?" he asked before shoveling food into his mouth.

Hermione smiled briefly before answering- Harry ate a hell of a lot- and said. "Oh, good I suppose." She thought for a moment as she filled her plate. "Actually, I've slept better this weekend than any other. Weird as that may sound." She laughed lightly, but halted when she saw Harry's face. Puzzled, and confused.

"Why would it be weird?" he asked slowly, fork halfway to his mouth, and Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"It stormed the entire weekend, Harry. I'm surprised you didn't notice." She was about to ask where he'd been all weekend to _not_ notice such a storm, but killed the question in her throat. She _never _wanted to know what he'd done- it was always too much to bear, especially unprepared.

"Oh, right, I'd forgotten." _And he never could lie very well,_ Hermione thought calmly.

"That's ok, Harry. I guess you were busy."

"Yeah," Harry drew out the word uncomfortably, then abruptly changed the subject. "Do you know what McG's got planned for us today?"

As he knew it would, Hermione immediately started her 'Respect' lecture, and he grinned with Ron as the red-head slid into the seat across from them. They both regarded Hermione as a sister, but she never knew their deepest secrets. The secrets they've only ever told each other.

And as Harry knew Ron would never tell about him bedding the Potion's Master, Ron knew Harry would never tell anyone that he was shagging a certain blond Slytherin. They smiled, in perfect agreement, and turned back to Hermione. She got annoyed when they didn't pay attention.

_

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_Ta-da! Hey- I've kinda paved the way for a sequel/companion Ron/Draco pairing here…. But I probably won't do it unless I am severely _bored_. Just so you know. -lol-_

_I hope you all like it, and tell me whacha think in a review, k?_

_Love ya'll, and I'm sorry about the lateness of those chapters, but here's making it up to you all!_

_Netrixie_


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